


Torment

by SithPriestess



Series: Desolation [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, F/M, so many trigger warnings, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 14:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19111768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SithPriestess/pseuds/SithPriestess
Summary: The nefarious group has a bit of work to do, pirates to recruit, and a crazy Trandoshan to maybe put a leash on... or not.





	1. Chapter 1

He stood over Zero, studying the changes. She'd slimmed down since he'd first acquired her, from Alianne's stealing of her food rations.

Alianne had in the same interval filled out to a healthy frame, no longer the emaciated shadow he'd first acquired on a lark.

The woman was paler now, but Iocina's work had brought a light back into her eyes.

Urla was conscious for the procedure, of course, as more of her stump had been cut away to accommodate the new prosthesis, which Zero was busy putting the finishing touches on installing.

Urla rumbled deep in her chest as the last connection between the device and her nerves was set in place. The physician was humming what the Trandoshan recognized as an Alderaanian love ballad as she worked, twisting bits here and there deeper and perhaps further than necessary. She had resented this human's healing assistance at the beginning, but had begun to appreciate the vindictive cruelty.

She had learned to tolerate if not seek out pain as her rival did, Iocina seemed to crave situations that might cause her discomfort and took a sensual delight in having Zero work her ministrations upon her flesh.

"Let's turn this on, and see what happens," Zero said dreamily, eyes half lidded as she picked up the trigger that would fire up the electronic impulse device. After the initial energy connection, Urla's own nervous system would supply the power for the prosthetic.

Urla hissed then gritted her teeth as sparks emitted from the metal fused just below her elbow.

"Oh dear," said the doctor, "not quite right. I'll have to leave it on while I fix these wires." she smiled poisonously and began fiddling with it, taking longer than strictly necessary.

Urla pushed her out of the way when she'd finished, the woman skipping back with a laugh to avoid her claws.

She flexed the new arm, flicking her wrist in the manner she'd been shown to release the catches that caused razors to slide from the sides and tips of the thick fingers. A touch with the Force caused the same along the outside of her forearm. She radiated satisfaction.

Ullan reached out to touch the blades with his flesh finger, his expression one of sublime bliss. He sighed happily at the feeling of the metal under his hand.

"Beautiful, don't you think?" he asked Iocina. "Cortosis-weave, eversharp, this will outlive Urla here."

He leaned close to the Trandoshan. "Just think, some day centuries from now, some other acolyte of the Dark Side will feel your hatred in their soul when they graft this work of art on."

The Trandoshan bared all her sharp teeth. "Thank you, Master. For everything you've given me," she said. The former Jedi felt far removed from who, what, she'd once been. Her resentment of how she'd been held back, been made weak and ineffective by her Jedi masters, had strengthened day by day. How had she ever repressed these urges that brought her such savage joy and made her strong?

#

Iocina nodded, wiping down her hands. She'd only just crawled out of an access hatch, having finally finished the last of the minor repairs the ship had sustained in the battle with the Republic ambush team.

"Do you know, Master, I was told that the ability to create Sith artifacts had been lost for centuries," she laughed, "I don't know whether that is stupidity or propaganda."

 

"It depends on what you define as a Sith artifact."

He whirled his lightsaber around his metal palm. "I made it. I'm a Sith. By definition, that's a Sith artifact. Now, some of the more obscure artifacts and their strange abilities? Working on that. A lot of that was buried away and will have to be recovered. There are a lot of people digging around Korriban and other sites for exactly that reason."

He nodded at the two fallen Jedi. "I think it's time you sparred together."

He glanced to the pair of them. "No maiming. Flesh wounds only."

Iocina's grin was nearly as feral as Urla's and the Trandoshan immediately dismissed her opponent. She'd fought the little fallen Jedi one already, she refused to call the human girl a Sith - she hadn't seen her show any characteristics of it other than mild sadomasochism - and knew she could have taken her then if she hadn't been so weak and determined to save her from herself. She huffed air through her nose slits at that, Iocina was no match for her.

He smiled benevolently and stroked Zero's cheek. "Lovely work, my dear. Agonizing. Beautiful."

He waved a hand. "Carry on. I have business with the doctor."

Urla stalked out of the medbay, hissing with glee.

Iocina walked at a more leisurely pace behind her opponent, a small smile on her face. It was her sweet smile, the one she still gave Zero when she was being particularly good - which is to say wicked - and she only wore it when she was in a good mood.

She hadn't seen Urla's sparring sessions, but she knew they likely focused on the deepest level of aggression possible with a great deal of brutality. Iocina could do brutal, but she herself had been practicing finesse. She wanted to drive Urla to distraction, then take her down when she'd exhausted herself.

The dark side was a powerful ally, but it could be a fickle one as well. Urla drew deeply of it to power her constant anger. If Iocina had a bottomless well of lust and the desire to destroy through manipulation, Urla had and endless rage than nothing could quench. Being that angry took energy, a great deal of it actually. She would wear herself out physically much sooner than Iocina would tire of toying with her.

She stepped into the middle of the room, noting that the usual scattering of objects and debris was strangely missing. No doubt Urla's training had been more straight forward and focused on overwhelming an opponent physically. She'd have to remedy that by clogging the playing field as it were. The new leather sheath on the back of her belt slid open with a flick of her fingers and her lightsaber came to hand. She didn't ignite it yet, waiting for Urla to make the first move. Let her think Iocina was weak and ineffectual, Better yet, let her think I'm afraid. If anger is her ally, fear is mine.

 

Urla extended her clawblades on her arm, took one quick breath, then feinted toward her, leaping to the side at the last moment before coming at her from an angle.

Iocina spent the next hour or so mostly moving just out of range of Urla's claws. She rarely ignited her 'saber, kicking over the two crates full of shredded metal and half destroyed bits and scraps that she and Ullan had flung at one another in her own training. The Trandoshan wore no boots, using the claws on her feet as well as her flesh and metal hands. Bloody footprints showed the map of their battle from the shards stuck into her feet.

Neither were unscathed, Iocina had sustained a cut on her off hand arm that cut nearly to the bone and now had another lightsaber wound from the cauterization. She thought, perhaps, she might need to have it healed more completely if her Master agreed to it. Several nerves had been damaged, badly enough that parts of her arm were numb and others twitched and spasmed randomly.

He'd made some interesting changes in Urla's combat style in such a short time. Unlike the elegant, refined forms favored by the Jedi that focused primarily on the usage of the blade, he'd required her to use all parts of her body as weapons. Iocina narrowly missed having her collarbone shattered by a thunderous headbutt, and more than once fangs had snapped closed just short of tender flesh.

In the end he stepped in between them, completely unconcerned that he was intersecting the path of Iocina's downward slash or Urla's claw coming up toward his belly to riposte. When both females turned their attacks aside, he smirked at them, then gestured toward his feet.

Urla lowered herself down to her knees, still awkward at the motion, she would always be due to anatomical constraints.

Iocina released the hilt of her 'saber, floating it behind her back and into its sheath as she knelt, pressing her face to the floor. She was breathing hard, covered in sweat and blood, and her thoughts were a mix of lust, bloodlust, and delighted pain.

"Interesting. Stalemate. What have you learned of each other?"

"She is cunning," Urla allowed. "And not so weak as she feigned."

"A useful thing to know. Never trust what your enemy presents. Iocina?"

"She is as violent as she used to be peaceful; more often than not as initiates she backed away as soon as she realized she could do true harm. Now she presses her advantage," she grinned, leaning a bit more weight on the wounded arm than strictly necessary to let the dark agony feed into her soul.

"And what did you learn with regards to combat itself?"

"Never rely on your opponent to show their weakness, don't wait for an opportunity to take advantage of an opening you expect to present itself. Make your own openings," Iocina replied promptly.

Urla had a harder time articulating her thoughts, she hadn't noticed a change in her ability to reason, only knew it took longer to form a coherent response. "Do not underestimate an enemy," she said slowly, "first impressions can be a calculated falsehood to lure you into complacency."

He nodded. "To the medbay. You will dine together tonight. When we land, you'll be taking quarters together and practicing together every day. Same rules- no maiming, no fatalities. Any slaves you take for practice down on the ground..." he shrugged. "Just don't go through more than three a week or so and we'll be fine."

Iocina stood and bowed, "Master, should I get this worked on more than the usual?" she held out her arm, "I've lost feeling in two of my fingers, nerve damage I think."

He grabbed the arm, twisting it around as he stepped behind her, holding it at a painful angle as he examined it. "Clumsy apprentice," he said. "Get it repaired. I need you functional, it's your suffering that doesn't matter."

Her grin widened, sighing as the burning wound was manipulated. Her muscle spasmed between his hand. "Zero will have to cut all this out and rebuild it, we'll have fun."

If Urla could roll her eyes she would, sadism made complete sense to her now. Before the thoughts she occasionally had of inflicting pain had caused her a great deal of discomfort and some fear. Her Jedi master had explained to her that she had to overcome the natural urges of her species, and she'd spent all her life trying to do just that. The night she'd submitted to her new Master all the locks she'd had on her inhibitions had come undone.  
.  
Masochism, that was entirely foreign to her. Why submit willingly to pain? She could function well through the inconvenience of pain, but Iocina's lust that came upon her with each injury was confusing. She'd smelt the human's arousal the first time she'd landed a mark on her. She'd never smelt such before her time here, it wasn't something that she'd been exposed to at the temple and for the obvious reasons.

She walked behind Iocina, who practically skipped ahead of her calling for the doctor.

"We're going to land on the Skyfire first," he said, referring to Rost's damaged flagship of the battered pirate armada, the heaviest and most powerful vessel remaining in the fleet. "Be ready for action when we land."

"Are we sure our digital god friend is out of the picture?" she asked, "I'd hate to find out it had a backup deeper in the mines." Zero was twisting her arm around much as her master had done, pulling out a laser scalpel and a particularly painful disinfectant. It hadn't always been formulated that way, but Zero had been playing with the chemistry. On the table next to her she had a regenerator and the same nerve stimulant and manipulator she'd used earlier on Urla. The last thing she'd pulled out was kolto and looked disappointed that it would be necessary. The slave had been studying very primitive wound closure techniques for a few days now.

"As best we can be sure," he said. "I isolated the power and locked it down to minimal presence. We'll be relocating the entire device soon. It's best not to have two diabolical schemes in close proximity. That's one of our many projects. Setting up a new colony takes time. And I think we should come up with a suitable name, something ominous."

She laughed softly, "Hmm, like coming up with awful backstories for pretend slaves that isn't something master Rens got around to teaching me," she grunted as the scalpel finished cutting away the damaged skin. Glancing down she could see white bone exposed. How far I've grown, she thought, or fallen as the case may be, snickering at her own joke she watched in morbid fascination as the doctor began to mutter under her breath as she worked on the nerves. Really the pain was minimal, and it wasn't until the nerves were repaired that it would begin to truly hurt.

"The colony, actually. I want a new name for the colony. Open contest on the ship, first one to come up with something suitably ominous yet not overly, ah, ridiculous wins a special prize," he said.

"Something... Sith-ish, you see."

He stroked Zero's cheek. "That includes you, darling monster."

"What with all the fallen Jedi and the corrupted slaves aboard the ship I propose the Heresy," Iocina offered.

Urla gazed out the viewport, not seeing the beauty of hyperspace but whatever lay at the end of the tunnel of stars, "Lightbreaker." she stated.

Zero leaned into her master's touch for a moment, then continued to repair the nerves in Iocina's arm, "The Torment perhaps my Lord?"

"Torment..." he said, tasting it. "Oh, so very ominous. I like it. You'll receive your reward in due time, my dear. And you'll be coming to my quarters tonight."

"Now finish fixing these wretches so they can be ready. We may need to kill some people. There are no specific plans for that, but where we go death tends to follow."

Iocina settled back in her seat and closed her eyes while she was worked on. Zero resuming her soft nonsensical muttering. She'd never fully recover from her breaking, every once in awhile Iocina caught her standing motionless, staring into the distance with a slack expression. Occasionally she would become mute for a full day, eyes flat and bleak as she toyed with her tools.

Flexing her mechanical arm Urla took in a breath and let it out in a hiss, "Yes," she said, finally. She moved into the corridor as she waited her turn, beginning to pace up and down the hallway like a caged beast. On the floor Alianne knelt wiping up the trail of blood the Trandoshan had left on her walk from the cargo bay and she realized she'd blocked her pain so effectively she hadn't noticed herself bleeding. She stepped over the slave and continued to pace, leaving more bloody prints for the girl to clean.

Alianne looked up with admiration in her eyes. Urla radiated power.

She had truly arrived in the most ideal place she could have, surrounded by beings of power and influence. The only down side was that since Zero had been broken, she was no longer any fun to play with. But she'd heard the discussions of the upcoming colony, and had high hopes for new toys when she arrived.

Zero sighed happily as she finished the repair. She used old-fashioned sutures to close the wound, working in a crazy pattern guaranteed to leave an ugly scar.

"Does that work, Mistress?" she asked sweetly.

Iocina dragged Zero against her chest with the wounded arm, cupping the back of her head as she kissed the slave-doctor deeply. She was gratified when Zero reciprocated fervently. Iocina knew that all of the woman's memories of the night she'd been broken had not faded and she hadn't bothered to take them from her afterward. She pulled the woman into her lap and Zero straddled her hips, wiggling happily.

Iocina drew back and petted Zero's hair, "If I get a chance I'll bring you something to play with," she said, and the doctor's face lit with excitement. "You might not be able to keep them for long though," she added and laughed at the exaggerated pout. She kissed her again then shoved her to the floor. "Clean Urla up," she ordered, and went to find some food.

Bronus was in the galley, preparing a meal for Ullan when she entered.

"Would you like something, mistress?" she asked.

"Yes," she said, dropping into a seat. She wouldn't eat in her room, nor did she plan to allow Urla to do since they now had to share quarters. She wondered what the Trandoshan would think of Zero crawling beneath Iocina's blankets halfway through the night. She still had the imposed fear of sleeping alone, and either tried to sleep on the floor in her Master's room if he felt indulgent, or more commonly curled around Iocina's feet. If neither of them wanted to put up with her she curled up on the floor outside one of their cabins.

She ate without really looking at her meal, lost in thought. It was delicious and she enjoyed her food these days more than she ever had before. Near starvation had that effect on people she supposed.

#

Urla entered soon after, bare feet swathed in kolto patches. She gestured wordlessly at Bronus when she returned from serving her master and the slave complied. It was much easier to prepare food for the Trandoshan, although she was never truly happy with the synthetic meat. One of the things that she'd been fantasizing about for many days was fresh meat, and she knew the only way her master would allow her to have it.

There was a small uncertain part of her that Iocina would have recognized and understood, a little voice of conscience that sounded partly like Jedi Knight Urla Wek, and partly like that of her Master, Jocan Ilithu. It begged and pleaded and whispered the about the code and doing what was right. She hadn't yet done anything unforgivable, that voice whispered. She could return, be welcomed back and be healed of whatever had been done to her. It was the weakened voice of the light.

"Stand by for hyperspace exit. Iocina to the guns, Urla to the landing ramp. Look lively, apprentices. Last time we dropped out of hyperspace it was into a shooting gallery."

Iocina grabbed her flask of water and gulped it down as she ran, tossing the empty bottle at Alianne who was pressed herself against the wall as she passed. She dropped down without touching the ladder and threw herself into the chair.

Urla sprinted to her place, holding a hand in front of herself as she used the Force to shove all the debris from the fight to the sides. She felt her bloodlust mount, almost quieting the voice of the light that had begun to wail.

The ship exited hyperspace to...

...a raggedy but intact formation of pirate vessels, orbiting their purloined colony.

Moments later, they tilted over toward the flagship.

As the ship entered the bay, he sent an impulse to Iocina. Cargo bay. No leash this time, we're entering as Sith. We're going for maximum impression here, it's very vital to our plans that we sow as much fear and obedience as possible.

He was waiting at the cargo bay when she came up, Urla at his side, blades extended.

She switched her lightsaber from it's place behind her back and clipped it to her belt. It was a more obvious place for it, people expected it to be there on a Sith or a Jedi's hip. She smiled wickedly, wondering if any of the pirates would recognize her as the Sith Lord's slave. As fun as the pain-toy dresses had been, she felt far more comfortable, not to mention intimidating, in her new black robes. Even better with proper boots.

Her hands closed into fists at her side, as Urla did the same with her flesh hand on their Master's left.

The ramp dropped with a dramatic bang. While Ullan looked impassive, both of the apprentices felt his wince.

Damned hydraulics were damaged. Ah well, looks dramatic... and... STRIDE.

He marched out purposefully. Unlike the first time when they boarded the vessel, they were greeted by an honest-to-god honor guard, such as a pirate vessel could muster. He strode through them, cape whipping slightly as he marched.

Captain Rost was waiting for them, his uniform rather more gaudy and decorated than it had been when they'd first met him. In a blatant imitation of Ullan's style, he led the sensor tech along on a leash and looked supremely satisfied with himself.

"Captain Rost," Ullan said. "Is everything ready according to the directions I've given you?"

"Yes my lord," he said crisply. "Everything is exactly as you required."

"It had best be," Ullan said. "I do not tolerate failure."

He gestured to the females behind him. "This is Iocina and Urla, my apprentices. In my absence, they carry my authority."

Which damn well better be unified authority, he sent back. If you have disagreements, have them here and do not allow the insects to witness them. We are gods among mortals, but there are a lot more of them than there are us three, and any signs of loss of intent, focus, or worst of all, dissent could bring disaster. Our entire administration here must be brutal and fear-laden.

"Of course, my lord. Mistresses," Rost said, bowing deeply.

Outwardly Iocina's face was hard and cold, the same mask she'd worn confronting the two young knights. Inwardly she was incredibly amused and a little impressed. Yes Master, she thought, agreeing to behave. Faintly she could sense Urla answering in the affirmative as well. I think we've improved our little band of miscreants by your magnificent example.

A few of the pirates were looking the group over, obviously recognizing both Iocina and the Trandoshan. The last time they'd seen them Iocina had been on a leash, but had also held a lightsaber, and the other female had worn ragged Jedi robes and been dragged into the Sith's vessel unconscious and bleeding.

These men in particular radiated respect and fear in equal measures, which Iocina found delightful. Her master was someone to respect and fear, and he was a breaker of wills and a maker of servants and slaves. These men could do worse than emulate Darth Ullan.

Ullan waited for a moment, then looked at Rost. "Why are slaves not being moved, captain?" he asked calmly.

Rost jumped as though he'd been hit. "Of course, my lord! Began the transshipment of the slaves!"

The deck exploded into action as pirates ran every which way. It was enthusiastic but inefficient, the sort of movement one would expect from pirates. Slaves began to be herded along toward the assault transports.

"I will make sure that the other ships are moving, my lord?" Rost said, his voice rising to make the declaration a question at the end.

"I would hope that you would, captain," Ullan said. "Oh, and leave your pet."

Rost swallowed and offered the leash across. Ullan walked past disdainfully and continued down the deck toward the hallway.

Iocina and Urla fell in behind him, moving perfectly in step with one another. For once since the day Urla had been taken they were in accord. Iocina could feel conflict in her old friend turned rival, and she wondered if even through the conditioning she might decide to break free and run for it when she had the chance. Master? she thought, tightly shielding. She didn't think the Trandoshan had anything more than moderate thought sensing but she wanted to be certain, Do you think there's any possibility of Urla trying to back out? Or did I feel like this before I slaughtered all those mercenaries?" she thought a moment, Well I might have felt righteous about that, so before I came down and slaughtered a lot of helpless people down here and tortured one to death?*

The prospect remains, and if she makes that choice she will suffer for it. But she's going to commit some deep, dark sins very soon. Also, collect the little toy he left behind, it's beneath my dignity to call out to her.

He stopped and observed a stream of slaves passing by, bedraggled, filthy men and women shuffling by, chained hand and foot together in a ragged line.

"Healthy enough," he said. They were given free use, but every head was accounted for, and any missing slaves will come back on Rost and his crew. As in, there will be one for one replacement of any missing slaves.

Iocina walked back silently and grabbed the dangling leash. The tech turned slave stood shivering, naked, in the middle of the room. She yanked the end of the dirty leather strap and the woman stumbled after her, nearly walking in her heels. When they reached Ullan she grabbed the woman by the back of her neck and held her ahead of her.

Iocina wondered how the slaves would learn to do what was required of them. Breaking one slave had been easy enough, and Zero had come with a purpose attached. These people all had different goals, abilities, and weaknesses before they'd been enslaved. How did one go about setting up such a large slave run operation?

#

Urla watched the filthy slaves as they were herded like prey onto the shuttles. Vermin, she thought, why did I want to protect you when you were too weak to fight back? She rolled her mechanical wrist, blades making little sounds as they emerged and retracted in a rhythm. Beside her the leashed woman flinched at each flick that caused the blades to emerge.

As the slaves passed by, some of them looked up at the trio of Sith and the raggedy slave.

It's a very good question, how you cow a population of this size. Accounting for a certain amount of loss, we'll still be absorbing several thousand slaves. Fortunately, I have plans in place for that. Some of our allies won't be overly enamored of them, but it will take care of multiple issues at once.

Aloud, he spoke softly. "What was your name, slave?" he asked softly.

"Vonda," she answered. "Vonda Ophile, my lord."

"Mmm. What became of that Zabrak beast who was your lover?"

She shuddered. "He was killed, my lord."

"In front of you?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Vonda, I am going to give you a chance to earn your life. Do you want to live?"

"Y-yes, my lord. Very much."

Release her.

"Run."

She only hesitated for a second before she took off running as fast as she could, the leash flapping against her back as she bolted for the nearest corridor.

"Urla," he said with a glance. "Hunt. Go get dinner. Bring her back here, alive, and feed in front of these slaves."

Iocina watched as something like a switch flipped behind Urla's eyes. All the doubt and confusion was cut off in an instant and she sprang forward. There was a commotion as slaves screamed and tried to dodge out of the way, their tied hands and legs causing half a dozen to fall for every one that stumbled.

Vonda screamed as Urla brought her down, landing on a crouch over her body as she yanked her wrists behind her back dragged her back to lay at Ullan's feet. Now there was hesitation, but the Trandoshan's mind was a haze of red with no thoughts that she could sift through. Ullan, with his imposed link through the bits of gleaming metal worked into the prosthetic probably could however. The slaves had all stopped and even the pirate's stopped joking and turned to stare.

The room was utterly silent, save for the broken sobs of the woman on the floor. Urla shoved her onto her back and crouched over her. At that moment there was nothing sentient about the fallen Jedi, there was no one home behind her eyes.

The room filled with screams as the metal hand descended, ripping into the Vonda's chest and carving a deep gash from clavicle to naval. The woman gaped, blood pouring from her mouth as she tried to scream. All that emerged was a bubbling froth of blood. The slaves were screaming and actually began to flee towards the transports.

As Urla lowered her mouth to the woman's chest and began to eat a nearby pirate fled to the corridor and began to vomit.

Iocina watched impassively, and nodded. Effective, no more sad little denials of what she is now.

As Urla ate, he glanced around and spoke to no one in particular. "It is so rarely a good thing to come to the attention of a Sith Lord."

He reached down to stroke Urla's spiny head. She growled instinctively, defensive of her meal, the growl trailing to a whimper as he shot a spike of agony into her mind.

Be careful, beast. I am your Hunt Leader.

Yes master. Forgive me.

He turned to what seemed to be a ranking pirate.

"You," he said.

"My lord?" The Bith fluttered nervously, mindful of the recent warning.

"Apprentice Urla will join the final transport down."

He gestured toward the Trandoshan, still messily consuming her meal. "I would recommend you listen very carefully to any instructions she may give."

"Of course of course!" the Bith said. He stood frozen in place until Ullan dismissed him with a fluttering wave of the hand.

"Now we go to undersee the next step in the plan, " Ullan said.

What do you think of our little monster now?

I think that now I'm especially excited for the possibility of coming across more of our old acquaintences.

On the floor Urla raised her head and tilted it back to swallow a large chunk of meat, her face a study in lethal joy.

I would say that her odds of leaving just diminished considerably. And you can certainly see why Alianne wanted a stronger master.

On the bridge there was a great deal of excited chatter and bustle, the pirates enthusiastically and inefficiently carrying on the mass movement of thousands of slaves. Rost shot to his feet when Ullan entered, stepping aside so that Ullan could take his seat.

Remain standing. You won't be kneeling in front of these vermin. Not today.

She moved to stand to the side, just behind his left shoulder. Yes Master, she smirked slightly, giving a side long glance at Rost who was practically vibrating with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.

The offload took time, one did not simply move six thousand people in an hour, especially with all the different ships and personalities involved. But finally, Rost turned to Ullan.

"The transport has landed, my lord."

"Very well. Captain Rost, clear the sky."

He turned sharply. "Execute fire plan delta three nine!"

Shouted orders carried down the line and then the sky filled with cyan fire, turbolasers blossoming along the viewscreens.

Around them, an unprepared, unprotected pirate fleet began to die. Ullan stared at his fingers, seemingly disinterested in the goings-on.

Iocina fought to keep her face impassive as she watched the massacre, instead of turning a raised brow to her Master. This does tie up loose ends, she thought. The fear and pain of the betrayed pirate's broke over her like a wave, and she had to lock her hands behind her back to keep them from trembling. It definitely wouldn't do to have the captain or his crew think she was showing weakness. As bloodthirsty as they were, she doubted they'd recognize her response was from lust and not fear.

Caught completely by surprise, the pirate fleet was quickly annihilated.

Once the last light had winked from the tactical display, Rost turned toward Ullan. "Lord Ullan, we have cleared the skies. Never did like those bastards anyway."

Ullan nodded. "Very well. Make sure all escape pods are accounted for and that there are no survivors among the debris, then began phase two."

"At once, my lord!"

Rost turned and began snapping orders. Confusion and fear were rampant on the ship as the full ruthlessness of the Sith Lord became evident. First, a brutal slave raid. Then a brutal betrayal.

And now.

Piece by piece, section by section, the ship began to evacuate down to the planet. Several hundred crew members, loading their possessions, gathering their weapons, and abandoning their home.

As the bridge crew began to filter out, Ullan rose from the chair. "I'll handle the vessel, Dominar Rost."

Rost blinked at the sudden change of title, as though tasting it in his mind. Iocina felt a flare of enjoyment in it. "Thank you, Lord Ullan."

The man braced up and offered a salute, an obscure hand gesture based on whatever military tradition he'd gotten his start in. Ullan waved it off as the bridge began to empty.

"This ship," Ullan said as he strode along, hand gliding on the rail. "Commissioned fifty-seven years ago into the Dalian Confederation for power projection purposes along the Cetralian Spine. Served in what they called a war then, a conflict with the Orbord Worlds, saw itself through three fleet engagements. After the defeat of the Confederation, it was sold as war surplus, ending up in the hands of the Yetth Corporation, which used it as a fleet security vessel for its convoys, as well as a way of overawing possibly intransigent natives."

He lowered himself into the helm, dashing a cup of caf away to the floor and bringing up the display, where he began tapping in orders.

"During the Marzais Conflict, Yetth commissioned the vessel as a privateer under a captain Fayst, who was perhaps entirely too successful in the business. Once the conflict ended, Fayst apparently decided that piracy was a better business than boring convoy escort missions and occasionally making minor bombardments on unruly trading partners. She garnered some reputation as the Black Queen of the Nelphus reach, before being murdered by a coalition of junior officers."

He patted the console. "This ship has seen blood and battle and treachery. It has served."

He laid in a course for the white dwarf that sputtered along at the heart of the system. The star had long since seen it's grandest days past, going from blue to yellow to red and back down to white. But its unfathomable energies could still easily devour a thousand ships or more without pause.

A countdown appeared on the screen, giving them twenty minutes before the collision. He locked out the console, making the course nearly impossible to revoke in a short time frame, then rose once more, taking one last look around.

In the docking bay Iocina paused by the mauled corpse of the tech turned slave. There wasn't one handsbreadth of skin untorn or whole, save the completely intact face.

She contemplated the dirty blonde hair splayed across the deck, then crouched and ripped a handfull of it out.

"Souvenirs?" he asked with a chuckle as he boarded his ship.

Once aboard they exited the hangar, the screen dimming against the harsh actinic glare of the nearby start. Against such mass, the venerable warship was an insignificant speck, hurling blindly toward its doom.

He didn't waste time watching the ship die, heeling the ship over for Torment.

"So now do you understand how we're going to manage several thousand slaves? "

"I do now," she said straightening out the clump of hair and beginning to braid it. She raised it slightly, "Trandoshans usually

keep trophies of their kills, particularly significant ones. She must have been too excited to go down with the slaves to think of it."

"The thing to remember here is that the former pirates are slaves as well, we just give them the illusion that they aren't by not calling them that. They will be the management class, heavily outnumbered and with a large incentive to keep those beneath downtrodden."

He waved a hand at the hair. "She's still only half a Trandoshan. Give her time and she'll be skinning her prey with gusto."

"I've no doubt," she said tying off the end of the braid with a loose thread.

"I really can't believe the pirates throught it was completely logical to disembark

And leave you to destroy their vessal."

"The logic was that they could either become the new overlords of a colony with the power of life and death over a fresh population of slaves, or they could die in hideous painful ways at the hands of me and my minions. They made what was for them an entirely reasonable decision."

They dropped down toward the desolate rock. "Home. But not really. We won't be spending most of our time here, and sooner or later something or another will happen to it. But we'll get our use out of it."

She flashed white teeth, "How long will we be here this time, Master?" she asked. "Three slaves a week you said? Is that between the both Urla and myself, or each?"

"Oh, and what do you want to do with them?" he asked, arching his eyebrow. "Feed them to Zero?"

"If I had three, I'd give at least one to her. I think I want to take my time with things. Unless I," she paused for a second then shrugged, "unless I decide to explore the inside of a body as intimately as Urla just did. Not to eat them obviously, just a private anatomy lesson. Zero could help with that too."

He chuckled. "Three then. But at least one has to be configured for my amusement. Be creative with that."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has one of my favorite scenes that I've ever written in anything ever!
> 
> By the way, sorry this has taken so long for me to get back to! We've been working on some original stuff, some BDSM erotica in a superhero world we invented. It'll get published, eventually, but we want to write a few of the stories first since they're novellas and not as long.

The craft came in to land, surrounded by slower-than-light transports that now were marooned with the colony. The slaves had been assembled in a mass below the flight deck, a shuffling pile of human misery. Urla waited with the newly minted Dominar Rost at her side, a step back to make clear who was truly in charge. The pirates loitered around the edges of the crowd, weapons at ready.

"Let's go meet the masses," he said cheerfully as he bounced to his feet and lowered the ramp.

Stepping out, he nodded to Urla and then Rost before proceeding forward to one of the transports. With a quick Force-assisted leap, he stood atop the vessel.

"Welcome to Torment," he said. "This is your home now. This is my world, and I own everything on it. Your lives here will be hard and demanding, but if you obey orders and behave yourselves, you will most likely see the next day."

He marched across the spine of the vessel, speaking down to the crowd. "My name is Darth Ullan. I am your lord, your master, and for all you are aware, your god. I decide who lives and dies here. There is no escape from this place. There are no ships off. There is nobody in the galaxy who even knows where any of you are. And if you oppose me, you will find new depths of suffering that you never dreamed up."

He lifted his hand and shot a storm of lightning into the air above the heads of the slaves. "This is but one of my powers. I can read any mind I choose. I can kill every being on this planet, and in fact I've already done it once before. It would be rather inconvenient to have to do it again, but I am entirely willing."

He gestured down at ground. "Dominar Rost will rule this place in my stead. When I am not here, his word is mine. His word is law. His law is your life and death."

Ullan looked down at Rost. "Dominar, get these slaves in quarters and begin operation of this colony."

Rost pivoted smartly, another ghost of his obvious previous military training. "You heard Lord Ullan! Guards, shift the slaves! Move, you filthy animals!"

Further shouts and cries came from the guards around the perimeter, forming the slaves into ragged groups and shuffling them along. Ullan leapt down, cape fluttering behind him, and landed near Urla and Iocina.

Urla, this is your preserve. Rost is dominar in name only, a convenient and replaceable puppet that will absorb the ire of both the population and his underlings. You will stay in the chasm and become the monster they dread and fear. And we will keep our hand very close to the Dominar himself...

Iocina smiled, shifting her weight back on her left leg casually. "Do what you want Urla, but I'm going to wait until anyone I choose has settled in and gotten at least marginally used to the idea that they're trapped here. I want them feeling nice and hopeless first, no that they don't feel that way already, but they could hold out some hope of rescue on the ships."

Urla grunted, an assent or disagreement Iocina couldn't tell. Her mind was still an unreadable roiling mass of crimson.

He reached out to stroke Urla's crest. "Let's get down, I have our residence selected already.

Behind them, summoned wordlessly, their three slaves marched along.

The old Czerka Management Office had once been as nice a structure as existed on the wretched colony. Now, though, it was a battered shell, looted and pillaged, the fine furniture and art destroyed.

"Rost will be assembling work teams soon. Restoration of the living quarters for ourselves and the overseers will be among the first priorities, along with food, sanitation, and the metal foundries. The droids will be handling the foundry assembly."

Zero pressed close behind Iocina, swinging a large medical bag at her side. She was smiling, but it was her far off not-all-there expression.

"Oh my sweet little monster we're going to have so much fun here, I have a few wonderful ideas," Iocina said quietly. There were rough and temporary accommodations inside the building, fold out metal cots and crates of supplies.

Zero stopped just inside and Iocina had to tug her along. She tried to take the medical pack but the slave suddenly snarled. Hm, this is the first time she's been off the ship, she thought.

"Shh, come with me, you're alright," she crooned, stroking a hand through her hair, "Don't you want to put your things down? I'm not going to steal your tools, I want you to use them."

 

Zero squinted one eye at her. "What for?" she asked.

"We'll be upstairs," Ullan said, beckoning Alianne and Bronus along behind him.  
rd, and then I'll give you one to play with however you want. Does that sound fun?" she asked, smiling gently and keeping her voice soft and even. Zero got like this occasionally, but Iocina could usually talk her out of it as long as Alianne didn't interrupt the doctor when she was trying to think. Zero wanted to hurt the redhead as much as Alianne wanted to hurt her.

Zero brightened suddenly. "However I want? I've got a nerve reconfiguration I've been dying to try out, it involves limbic signal alterations..."

She started to delve into technical language far beyond Iocina's comprehension, another quirk she'd developed in reprogramming, this sudden gush of scientific enthusiasm.

She patted the woman on the cheek fondly, then a little harder to make her quiet, "I need to ask if you can do something for me. Do you have the tools and talent to make someone look at least a little bit like someone else? It doesn't have to be exact, just a resemblance should be enough?"

She rolled her eyes. "Ask me to do something hard," she said. "If you want mirroring I would need more equipment in order to properly reconfigure bone lengths and other proportions, but if you give me roughly equivalent builds, I can rebuild facial features easily enough."

She mused further, hand on her chin. "There are some primitive techniques for bone lengthening and shortening that are hideously painful, though..."

 

Iocina sighed happily, "I need to find someone who has roughly the same build and coloring I do," she confided, "If you see anyone who fits, please let me know or have one of our little pirate crew obtain them for you?"

"Oh most certainly, mistress. Do you want me to start looking now?"

She bounced lightly from foot to foot, glowing with excitement. In her mind, Iocina could see her envisioning ways to convert the standard alteration procedures into something altogether more miserable and painful. Visions of lasting subdermal irritation leading women who were Iocina's mirror image to scratch the skin from their cheeks caused her to snicker gleefully.

(Ah, I forget you are still a youngling. ;) Battletech is a science fiction setting, had its heyday in the eighties and nineties. Big robots, but American style instead of anime-ish, hulking monstrosities that shoot big cannons and so on. Very deep history to the setting, it'd take a fair chunk of orientation if you'd be up to it.)

 

The excitement was infectious but Iocina had to temper it a bit, "No," she said, "no lasting physical pain this time, you can do whatever you want to the one I give you for yourself later. I need this one whole, but you can hurt her during the procedure all you want. I'm not planning on leaving her with any of her old memories so she won't remember any of your fun anyway."

She chuckled at the disappointment, "You'll still have fun, I promise. Lets settle in here for the day and you can find a place to set up all your toys the way you like them. You can start looking as soon as our Lord gives you leave to do so."

She sighed at the one that was going to get away without lasting damage, but nodded and looked around. "I guess we need to get to cleaning. Where is that worthless Alianne?"

"Go ahead and find her," she said, giving Zero a painful smack from behind. Zero yelped and stumbled, looking like she wanted to strike back but immediately relaxed once more. Likely if she got the chance she'd attempt to spend her little violence on one of the other slaves. If not she'd save it up for when she had her own toy, which Iocina assumed would probably look quite a bit like Alianne.

She went ahead, searching for her Master and Urla.

They were out on the balcony overlooking the mining settlement. The cavern spread out beneath them, rather impressive-looking from this angle, the lights beginning to flicker on. Shouts and screams drifted back through the muggy air to them. Ullan was gesturing and explaining technical details.

"It's a triplex power feed, which is precisely what we'll need. The main rare mineral is synostium, but we have two tons of that on hand. It'll be enough for the population here, in the small quantities we'll be using it on them. But from there, we'll need to procure more. So once I determine which, if any, of our remaining pirates are still loyal, I'll put them on liberating as much of that as we can. Now the main slave settlement will rest at the edge of the chasm there, I want them pinned for when they finally decide to get too frisky. Now of course, keeping them deterred from traveling down the side of the chasm will be your job..."

"Yes master," she said, tongue flickering out to taste the humid air.

Iocina came up beside Ullan, lightly resting her elbows on the railing to test her weight before leaning on it. She smiled up through her lashes, "Do I get an assignment or shall I lounge about decoratively for awhile and torment slaves? Either one works for me of course but I do like to be useful to you Master."

"I think you'll like it," he said. "It involves getting dirty. I want you to infiltrate the slave groups and identify possible troublemakers. You can also scout for fun toys while you're in there."

"I'm already looking for something rather specific, but if she gets the time Zero wants to start looking as well. She needs to get it ready for what I need to do," she said "So I get to go play slave again? Am I to encourage docility and see who tries to get me to be strong and fight back, or go the other way and see who wants to recruit me if I'm rebellious?"

"You're an apprentice now, I'm not going to fasten your damned boots," he said. "I'm going to throw you into the dianoga tank and see if you can swim."

Urla hissed amusement at his rebuke, regarding her through slitted eyes.

He turned away from the rail. "As for time, we'll see. I have ideas and some plans, but we all know how well the galaxy cooperates with that. As always, be flexible my little apprentices. After all, we may have Republic frigates over our heads before the day is done, and then we'd just have to go and take them away."

She nodded, "Yes, Master."

Iocina turned and walked away, intending to go through the crates of supplies. If she didn't find what she was looking for she was sure she could take it from one of the pirates at least. She settled into searching for a pair of mechanic's coveralls while Zero dragged things around to create a makeshift medical bay.

#

Urla watched Iocina go with a slight grimace, What is this little fallen Jedi who plays at being a Sith? she scraped her metal claws along the durasteel railing, digging deep furrows into it and curling up strips of the material.

She ran her tongue along her teeth, still tasting traces of blood. She didn't want to wait for 'one day' to bring her old companion low, she wanted to do it now.

"Master," she hissed, "why do you allow her such insolence?"

"I allow her to do what I please. If she does not please, I torture her," he said. "Remember my offer, though..."

He reached down and lifted the bottle he'd located hidden in one of the destroyed rooms. Pulling the top free, he took a careful sniff. "Hmm. Not bad."

He waved a dismissive hand at Urla. "Go on, go make yourself useful. The Dark Huntress needs to find her lair."

 

Urla bowed respectfully, determined to show how much preferable she was as an apprentice and stalked away to seek a place below. She would find an opportunity to kill her rival, she was superior in strength and cruelty. She deserved Darth Ullan's attention far more.

#

Iocina held a succession of coveralls up to her, decided which was closest. She didn't want something too overlarge, it would look too much like a disguise or something she'd put on for lack of anything else. She threw the rest back towards the crate and used the Force to jerk Alianne around towards her.

"Dress me in this," she ordered, holding out her arms. Alianne complied, stripping her robes off and carefully folding them to be reused upon her return.

"Zero, I don't know how long it will take me to get back. If you get a chance to work on our project go ahead, keep her sedated if you finish before I return."

Once on she began to artfully damage and dirty the costume. It was already well stained as she'd hoped. Old grease marks, small burns, and general wear on cuffs and collar showed it was authentic. Now she just had to make it look like something that had been worn in captivity among pirates.

She braided back her hair tightly to her scalp and tied it off, then ran her hands roughly through it to dishevel it and gave herself the same treatment as the clothing. Alianne was more than happy to slap her several times and Zero to open a small wound just above her hairline to drip blood down her face and several more besides. As she waited for it to clot and dry she settled to meditate, deciding she'd have to get a feel of the situation before deciding which game she'd play.

As her mind drifted over the settlement, she could feel the seething undercurrents already beginning to form.

The pirates were mixed on the transition. Some among their number reveled in their new status as overlords. Free of the constraints of shipboard assignments, new coalitions were forming among them already as friends and members of various work gangs made the most basic steps toward establishing their new social order. Already three murders had been committed and numerous assaults, as they jostled for the best living quarters or squabbled over material possessions.

As for the slaves, shell shock was the predominant condition. Torn from their previous lives, brutalized and beaten, they mostly complied in docile fashion.

But among them were others, the natural survivors and the quick thinkers, who were likewise beginning to organize, either small pacts of mutual protection, or those who would exploit the misery of their fellows to better themselves.

With surprising speed, the planted seeds of a community that Ullan had scattered about with almost negligent disdain were being to burst open and form the first few green shoots of something resembling a civilization.

After an hour or so of meditation and possibly the last good meal she'd have in days if not weeks Iocina was ready to head out. She made a point to drink as much water as she could stand and made her way to what she thought of as a midway point between the completely beaten down and those who yearned to rise.

She'd do what she could to stay under the pirates' notice, but knew at some point she'd have to fend off a sexual assault. Probably more than one, and not all from the hardened marauders. As a Jedi she'd have seen the slaves as innocent victims, as a Sith she could sense violence inherant in most sentients and how it could be drawn out through stress. It also wasn't as though the raid had only picked up law abiding citizens. Certainly many were already murderers, rapists, drug dealers, addicts.

Iocina settled into the role she'd decided on. Cinna was a mechanic, picked up from the spaceport when the pirates had commandeered she ship she'd been employed on. She was from Alderaan, which made her tempting meat if anyone believed all Alderaanians were soft weaklings. She'd spent most of the journey locked in the private quarters of what amounted a semi high ranking officer among the crew of one of the destroyed ships.

That was all she needed to contrive for now, she'd decide whatever else she needed to invent on a case by case basis if she needed to. She wanted to play at weakness, but also a desire to overcome it and become something more. Hopefully that would lead to being recruited by any fledgling rebellion, or at least be taken by one of them for other reasons. She had no qualms about playing along with that to an extent. She could manipulate someone into thinking they'd enjoyed her body, unless for whatever reason she found the proposition entertaining in and of itself. She couldn't reach completion herself, but that was pain and pain was pleasure in its own way.

She skulked into one of the small camps, wide eyed and hunched over. She looked for the first marginally friendly face and stared at them from the edges of the camp, biting her lip uncertainly.

The old man beckoned her forward. "Come on, girl, I'm not going to bite. If you're looking for food I can't help, but there's warmth here."

He tapped a salvaged household circulation unit that was dragging a trickle of power, kicking out a pitifully small amount of heat.

To the undiscerning eye there was nothing remarkable about the old man, but even without the Force she noticed one thing right off- he'd established his own bit of private space, something of a premium in the overcrowded slave quarter, doubly so with his little bit of precious salvage.

More than that, there was a palpable hardness about him, a suggestion of danger. His mind was tight, disciplined, his thoughts painfully hard to penetrate. At a guess, some sort of former military, and likely quite good at it when he was in.

She gave him a shaky smile and decided honest gratitude would work better to ingratiate herself to him than servility. Something about him made her wonder if the Force had led her here first for a reason. He was hard, and possibly skilled. The type of person who might well be recruited to fight if not be the one actively planning something himself.

"Thank you," she said quietly, crouching down across from him. She glanced behind her and to her sides as if checking for someone who might play a dirty trick before reaching out her scarred hands to the warmth.

"Good habit," he said. He took a nip from a flask before secreting it back into his clothing. "Don't trust anyone right now. 'Specially a young girl like you. If you had to run right now, which way would you go?"

She shook her head, "I've not got a good look around, t'only ship left is that Sith's and them's trapped eh?" she said, "The mun as had me said they put that beasty down below where the mine tunnels is. The one as killed and ate that girl I mean," she swallowed and took a few deep breaths before composing herself. She settled a somewhat hard expression on her own face, imitating Alianne's when she'd first begun to show strength after Ullan's claiming of her.

He reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Never go in where you can't get out, girlie. What happens if the beast comes, eh? What happens if the beast is already in?"

He let her arm go. "And it's not a beast, it's a Trandoshan, though that might as well be the same far as this lot's concerned. He's a clever one, that Sith. Could almost admire him, if he hadn't put me off my retirement."

"Dunno much about Sith, nor Jedi. This damned war is both they's fault as far as I'm concerned," she muttered, rubbing her thumb over a scar on her wrist and pretending to wince when she touched a bruise.

"Did they say what they wants us for here?" she asked, voice trembling slightly, "I just got dragged out of," she stopped and lowered her eyes before continuing, "well if anyone's said I didn't hear it," she let resentment creep into her voice.

"Digging ore and making metal," he said. "Be glad if you don't learn more. Secret to surviving in a place like this is knowing what things it's good to know and what things it's not. Knowing secrets that a Sith Lord is keeping, definitely in the 'not' side of things. Let them silly pirates worry about that, 'cause they're the ones got to keep him happy. They ain't really got that just 'cause they're crackin' the whips don't mean they're any less under the boot than the rest of us."

She brightened slightly and shook her head, "Wonder if they thought of that yet?" She sobered again, "Like as not once they does they'll take it out of our hides." She looked him up and down, "Out of the hides of them like me anyway."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "Stick around, girlie. If you can keep up, we'll keep out from under. Thing about pirates is that they're mostly morons."

She could feel something emanating from the man, a subtle indication. He was ever so slightly Force sensitive. Not enough to ever amount to anything, but likely just enough to aid him in his former life. A bump of intuition here, a fortuitous event there, a subtle edge that he was almost certainly unaware of.

"Got a feeling about you, kid," he muttered. "You got an edge about you, more'n most of these useless scraggers. Think we could work together. And if you're worried about that thing..."

He turned over the top of his belt line, revealing metal at his waist. "...I'm not carrying the tools I started with

"I'm not carrying the tools I started with anymore. Though if you got a good hand for an aching shoulder, I might see my way to sharing a drink with ya."

She gave him another smile, "I could probably help," she ducked her head shyly, then peered up at him through her lashes. "On the Orendaver I was mechanic, cook, and medic."

 

He appraised her again. "Hunh. Always did have a good eye for the useful people. Kind of a gift of mine."

He leaned close to whisper. "We got a warm place to bunk, could be better, could be a lot worse. Next thing to figure is how we get our food. More'n what we're getting, anyway. Two ways to go about that..."

She flushed and squirmed slightly, "How can I help?" Without a probe she couldn't tell if that was what he had in mind, and didn't dare try one and set off any alarm bells.

"Two ways to go about it," he said. "Get more from those giving it out, or get more from those getting it."

He watched her closely, obviously ready to form a critical opinion of her based on her next answer.

"Which'n would you favor? "

She thought about it for a few moments, twisting her fingers together. "First one's safer in some ways, since we gotta sleep near these same folk alla the time. We take from them and they'll always be looking to cause us problems as revenge."

"Smart," he said, waving a hand for her to continue.

"If'n ya go the other way, and take from your fellows, you could make people see you as in charge. Then you gotta give something like protection back or you still won't sleep safe. Lot more work," she finished with a sigh.

He nodded. "There'll be work any which way we go," he said. "Survivin' is our work. How good a medic were you? There’s enough to work without a pile of kit and a droid to do all the real work?

"If it can be done without a kit I can do it," she shrugged. "Least I've done it so far anyway."

"That could be useful. Not least if one of us gets nicked up, which is likely to happen. Minute to minute, girlie, that's what we're livin' on now."

He rose up sudden, pulling the heater apart and stashing the components in his coat. "Let's go for a walk, hey?"

She hopped to her feet and nodded, "Where are, ah," she cut herself off as though realizing it wouldn't matter and followed. More and more interesting, depending on how all this plays out he might be useful to have around. If I don't kill him anyway.  
She sensed a quiet approval of her aborted question.

There was a scream ahead of them, followed by strangled cries for help. He snatched Iocina and pulled her to the side. "Follow my lead and don't do nothin' if I don't," he said.

Around the bend, a man lay bleeding on the ground. The man stayed in the shadows, creeping forward slowly. A group of roughs were dragging a woman away as she begged them, begged anyone for help.

He slipped back, produced a small vibroblade from somewhere, and waited until the cries receded into the distance. He glanced back. "She didn't have nothin' we needed, so we don't stick our necks out. Body might have something useful though. You dig through it, I'll cover."

She nodded, looking a little frightened in the direction of the screaming woman before darting out of cover to rifle the man's pockets. He wasn't dead, he wasn't even bleeding out, but he was in too much pain to struggle as she transferred everything he had into her own pockets. She did so indiscriminately without examining what she took, there wasn't time for that. She swiftly jogged back to the old man and back into the shadows.

He led her away to a little niche to examine the haul. Nothing exciting in a general sense, but some items that might've been useful. A small lightwand, some useless currency, a half-used roll of patch tape, and another small knife, this one barely the length of her pinky finger.

He checked the knife. "Good. Sharp but not too sharp. You ever kill anybody?"  
y. She didn't want to tell too many outright lies in case he might sense them, but she didn't want to completely out of character for her chosen back story either.

"Before I was taken," she said softly, "I'd have sworn I wasn't even capable of it. But I think I could now."

He pressed the knife into her hand. "Don't believe the crap you see in the holos. You stick a knife in somebody, they don't just lay down and stop bothering you. You want a quick kill, you cut the throat. You don't get that, you start sticking it in them and you don't stop until they quit being a problem. And they'll be working back at you the whole time."

He grinned at her. "You don't get into a fight and not expect to get hurt, girlie. What's your name, anyway?"

She made a show of fumbling the little weapon into the breast pocket of the coveralls. "I can do that," she assured him, "and I'm Cinna. You?"

"Nasto," he said. "Priorities in a situation like this: we got air to breath. Water supply comes in from the trickle lines down the way. Food's the main thing, and they ain't making sure that it's equally distributed, so we have to get our share and then if we can, we get more. Don't got to worry about rain, so long as we can trap enough heat between us to stay warm we can survive. We get solid on these things, then we start looking to get a bit more."

He glanced up at the mansion in the distance. "Not that good, maybe, but at least a soft bunk, hey?"

"Aye, more than I was hopin' for anyway," she said, "Just glad I'm not that slime's toy now. Bed warmin's not something I think I'd mind doin' if its a clean bed," she muttered just under her breath, "but the one I was in might's well have been an animal pen."

"That was yesterday," he said harshly. "Unless it's got some use for now, kriffing let it go and move on. We all do things we don't like to get by, and we're gonna have to do a lot more of 'em. You want to get sad and mope around, find you a pack of 'em like what took the woman. You want to stay alive out here, you get mad and you get hungry and you get scared as y'need, but you don't mope. Get me?"

She nodded, pressing her mouth into a thin line. "Yeah, I get ya."

She straightned her spine and lifted her chin, "What we doin' now?"

"We move about. We watch. Learn names, listen, figure out who's trouble, who's good, who's got what, who's hiding where. Figure out what the trades can be made are, and who needs to die sooner rather'n later."

"Right," she said, trying to sound only a little uncertain. Cinna wasn't a bloodthirsty person, only a survivor. She wouldn't be eager to kill. She shifted slightly and the artifact circling her throat send a cold burst through her skin. And just how do I explain that if someone notices it? she wondered, I'll figure something out I suppose.

He glanced at her. "Forget where you were before," he said. "If you need to kill, do it. You get somebody down, you finish 'em. You don't leave a live enemy behind, you leave a dead warning for everybody else. I ain't going to carry your slack, girlie. You don't keep up, I'll leave you behind."

He continued down between the houses, back among the people. There were muted conversations and sounds of despair and hunger. He ducked down a side street suddenly, almost disappearing in the gloom. Moments later, a pirate patrol rounded the corner.

Automatically she went for the small weapon, hiding it in her hand along one thigh. Fighting with the thing would be a hassle, and she had to remember to keep at the very least a stoic demeaner about it if she had kill someone. Showing how much she enjoyed it would cause as many problems as wasting time playing horrified.  
He pulled her in behind him. "Stay low. They're looking for people to bully. We don't want to be those people."

Indeed, the pirates had swagger and a hungry look in their eyes. They carried shock sticks, but wore nastier weapons on their hips, and they looked over the huddled refugees with disdain.

"What's this," one of them asked, stopping and prodding at a man huddled under a blanket. "Hiding something there?"

"No," the man said, trying to wrap the blanket tighter around himself.

"No sir," the pirate said.

"No sir."

"Lift the blanket."

"Please sir..."

"Lift the kriffing blanket, slave!" the pirate ordered. He jammed the stick into the man's cheek and sent him writhing into convulsions. The blanket flew away and a case of rations poured out, packets dropping on the ground around the man.

"Oho! Hoarding!" the pirate said. "You and you! Pick those up and carry them back to our station. Filthy slaves only get the food we give 'em, right?"

He looked around, running a hand over his shaven head. "Work detail! I need you... and you... and you... and you... and you..."

She huffed an exasperated breath as the man moaned and wriggled in pain. Better to have lined his waistband with the things instead of carting around a whole box.

"Idiot," she hissed almost silently, contempt lacing her breath.

"Just hope they're sloppy and miss a pack or two," Nasto whispered. "Be ready to move once they go."

They continued gathering slaves up.

"You're a work gang now," the pirate informed them. "Twelve Delta. You're gonna be tagged and gathered every day from here on. Get used to it."

"That's what we all got to look forward to," Nasto said. "Just you wait."

"They's not organized well, might miss a lotta people at first when sortin' em into groups," she whispered, "Figure all the rottenest things'll get assigned first, sanitation and all that. Even pirates don't wanna eat where they shit."

"Yup. They ain't really set the trustees up yet. You run things like this with trustees. Which is a decent gig for food and bed, but trustees is the first ones to get throats cut when it goes bad."

He sat back against the wall and pulled out a battered case of deathsticks. He ignited one and took a deep drag. "Got a feelin' 'bout this place," he said. "Like it ain't meant to last, y'know?"

"Gonna be trouble either way," she agreed, "but it'll nose dive faster when people get their courage up and decide to mutiny." She kept her tone even and her eyes on the pirates who'd begun leading the slave detail away, scanning the ground for the ration packs that might be left behind.

He snorted at that. "Dumbest thing to do. You think a Sith would hesitate to wipe this place clean and start over, girlie?"

He smeared a foot across the ground, through the ash piles that dotted the landscape in various places. "Whaddya think this used to be?"

"Could be anything," she said, looking at the general shape of the piles, "could be people. Dunno as we're even the second group here, we might be very temporary." She added soberly.

"Could be anything," she said, looking at the general shape of the piles, "could be people. Dunno as we're even the second group here, we might be very temporary." She added soberly.

"That's people. Biogenic," he said. "Seen it before. That's what happens when certain strains go through, they even render the bone. Nasty stuff. Means that we might be working on something real freaky here that might need us eliminated. So rebellin', dumb. Escapin'? Might be something to that, if it can be arranged."

"Just have'ta hope nobody rebels before anyone smarter has a chance to get outta here one way or another," she said, running a hand over her hair. "I hate the idea of relying on strangers having the sense not to get themselves killed and us into the bargain."

She crouched and picked up a small bent piece of metal and turned it over in her hand, "Czerka," she said, passing a fragment of a metal ID chip, "Somehow I don't think the Sith were paying 'em to work here."

"Czerka and the Sith are in bed," he said. "Goes back to the Mandie War, Czerka ran supplies for Revan."

He stood up and began moving down the street again, checking where the man had been taken for the work detail. One ration pack had scattered off to the side, it disappeared into the shirt.

"Psst!"

The voice came from the alley. She could sense hunger radiating from it, but not for food. This was greed, and a dark, plotting mind.

She pretended not to hear it, casting her mind back to slip into their thoughts and keeping an eye on Nasto's reaction as well.

"Back off!" Nasto said brusquely. "Not interested!"

"C'mon soldier boy," the voice said. "Yeah, I know you Nasto. Everyone around Grid 42 knew who you were. Nasto, back from the wars."

"Y'know what happened when somebody came crosswise of me, then," Nasto said. "Ended up turfed."

"Yeah, but that was there."

The man stepped out into the open. He was thin, his face long and stubbled. "Lissen up," he said "got a deal for you, if'n you can part with the pretty here."

"Up to her," Nasto said. "She ain't mine, just a runnin' buddy I found a bit ago."

"You want food, girl?" the man asked. "Got a warm place, and food..."

Iocina raised an eyebrow and managed to keep most of the sarcasm for her voice, "A deal for him, that involves takin' me?" she asked, "And if I did decide to come with you, would I get whatever deal you're offerin' him?" she sneered slightly. He was probably too stupid to think she'd expect anything other than his dubious protection, but was morbidly curious all the same. She had to admit to herself she'd not dealt with very many normal people, and this was yet another reason why the Jedi were doomed. They kept themselves and their students ridiculously isolated. In order to want to help or protect someone, wouldn't it be prudent to give a damn about them first? But no, attachment was forbidden and, in this, ignorance was encouraged.

"He'd be doin' different things than you, pretty," the man said. "He's a killer, been to the wars and back. Could use a man like that. But you, girl, you could make some real use. There's plentya men who'd like a turn, and you could eat good. Maybe get one to keep ya."

"I've been doing that a couple'a weeks now, gets old quick." She flicked her wrist just enough to let a bit of light flicker across the tiny blade in her palm, "'sides if I went with you, you'd be the one gettin' the extra in exchange of me doin' the work and you sharing only a bit o that with me. I work and you collect, not a good deal to my way of thinkin'."

"Right," he said, backing up step. "Well you can always come back when it gets lean, pretty. Me, I already got an in with the bosses. I keep 'em happy, and they keep us happy. No work detail, plenty of food."

Nasto looked thoughtful. "Maybe I could do some security on that?"

"Now we're talkin', old man."

Iocina listened to them talk, wandering off slightly and picking up one more ration pack to slide up her sleeve when their attention was off her. More importantly she scooped up the blanket the slave had wrapped the food in and tossed it over her shoulder. She didn't need it, she could keep warm using the Force, but it would be something to barter with. Neither man seemed interested in rebelling against the Sith, and by extension the pirates. But Nasto was the sort to get recruited, just like he was being courted by this fool.

"And the girl?" the man said.

"She's with me. She can cut a throat if it needs cuttin'. But if she don't want to lay down, she don't lay down."

Nasto glanced at her, his eyes communicating an unspoken message. Play along.

She nodded, entirely sincerely, did either of them but know.

Without hesitation she slipped into the man's mind and read what there was to see, running mental fingers through his thoughts in the same impersonal way she'd frisked the wounded man.

He was, somewhat, being straightforward. He had been, and aspired to be once more, a reasonably successful dockside pimp back on Umatha. His stable consisted of three women right now, bedraggled and desperate, and he saw little more in Iocina than an available set of holes to be rented by the minute.

With Nasto, he saw both muscle and reputation, a new view of the man she'd picked to accompany. Nasto had been a hard drinker on Umatha, but a dangerous man. More than one tough had tried their luck with the wily old veteran, and more than one body in the docks had been attributed to his hand.

Nasto would be a form of legitimacy, a powerful ally who, if properly managed, could create a mutually beneficial situation. Treachery was not, at present, on the man's mind. But the specter of it was never far from his thoughts, and he would easily and readily sacrifice anyone and everyone for his own survival.

He was, in essence, a sociopath.

She wanted to bang her head against the wall, And here I was looking for kriffing idealists. she thought. Iocina wasn't particularly in a hurry, and she'd always thought of herself as a patient person. Probably it would take days for anyone to even have the energy or resources to begin thinking about rebellion or making plans. Right now everyone was setting up heirarchies and making allies. She could work with that, she just wished she'd given them a day or two to figure this out before she'd bothered coming down here.

Yeah right, and sit around doing nothing, she thought, At least this is something to do.

"Wanna come back with us? Could warm you up nice, old man."

"Don't bother," Nasto said. "But if you got grub and a shingle to hang under, we'll take it. What's your name?"

"Gtinho," the man said. "Rev Gtinho. Heard of me."

"Nope."

Rev seemed to deflate a bit at that, but then beckoned the two of them after him.

They had claimed a run-down house that had part of the roof blown off somehow, probably by an improvised explosive.

"We got a share in here, some roughs from the docks that got caught up."

Nasto hesitated. "Which roughs."

"Bloodeyes," Rev said.

"Ah, yeah..." Nasto said, drawing his knife. "About that..."

"NASTO!"

A wiry Dug came whipping out of the house, followed by an Ithorian and a human. They immediately spread out as Nasto backed up, knife in hand.

"You want to do this here, now," the old man said with a grin "you might want to bring more buddies."

Iocina calmly set her back to his, tracking the little gang as they circled in what would have been an intimidating fashion had she been who she was claiming to be.

She widened her eyes and bit her lip, keeping her knife hidden in her palm. Playing helpless seemed to be her new favorite past time.

"You killed my clan brother," the dug snarled.

"Guys, we can leave this behind!" Rev protested.

"I'm fine with that," Nasto agreed.

"Blood calls for blood!" the dug said.

The Ithorian lunged for Iocina, reaching out with massive hands to restrain her. Nasto whirled, even though his back was completely turned, and swept her aside. His blade flicked out, severing the Ithorian's hand at the wrist.

The Ithorian stared dumbly at his stump, then began to wail with both mouths.

"Down one," Nasto said. "Anybody got next?"

He'd taken up a martial arts stance that Iocina could recognize, an obscure form that incorporated both blades and even pistols into its forms.

Iocina really wanted to shut the screaming alien up, but it wasn't in character. Yet. In an environment like this she could very easily get away with quickly degrading into a very violent being. But even after supposedly being gang raped by pirates one didn't become a skilled and accurate knife fighter overnight. What she could do was damage, wild messy damage.

She started with the Ithorian, flicking the little blade between her fingers and using it as a punching dagger. She slashed in the vague direction of its throat in the location of one of its voice boxes. She missed but managed a deep cut that caused blood to spray. Dancing out of the mist she kicked him at the nearest of his friends.

"Okay, let's cool down here," Nasto said. "We make too many bodies, the bigs start coming down."

"Right!" Rev said. "We can work this out."

The human had pulled the Ithorian back, pulling him down to try to staunch the bleeding.

"My friend here, she's a doc. She patches hammerhead here, we call this even," Nasto suggested.

The dug swore in a gravelly voice. "We aren't even. We aren't ever ev-"

His voice cut off in a gurgle as Nasto's blade flicked across his throat. For a human the speed was incredible, possibly enhanced by his cybernetic legs. It wasn't quite to the level of a trained Force user, but it wasn't that far off, either.

"You seem reasonable," Nasto said to the human, who nodded.

"Yeah," the man said. "I think that works."

Iocina didn't bother keeping an approving grin from her face as she stood behind the old soldier, retired he might be but he was quick and ruthless. She sidestepped the pool of blood oozing out of the flopping Dug.

She kept her eyes on the new human, and a purely mental watch on on Rev, who looked like he was trying to get either behind her or Nasto. She doubted he was offering to watch their backs. It was even odds whether he was trying to work with these morons or playing his own game and she was having trouble getting a read on his thoughts. Some sentients became much easier to read when excited or afraid because they were laser focused on the moment, others became more difficult as they thought of too many things at once.

Rev was indeed a morass of constantly updating situational analysis, weighing odds and picking sides. What he was seeing here was that Nasto was a good pick, and that the old soldier had no interest in leading a gang of his own. Visions were forming of a group led by Rev that could dominate the new slum, with Nasto as his enforcer.

That seemed to be the primary calculation. An ideally lustful part of his mind was checking out Iocina as she approached the Ithorian.

Purely out of curiousity Iocina put a sway in her hips as she moved to her self created patient. She knew immediately when his attention locked fully on her. That could be interesting as a distraction some time down the road. She knelt, very prettily, and began to tear strips from the blanket she'd tossed over her shoulder.

Would he be stupid enough to try and grab her if it meant alienating Nasto? Probably not, but it would give her an excuse to hurt him anyway if he did.

She gave the Ithorian her most poison sweet smile and began to use the primitive techniques she'd been learning from Zero.

The Ithorian groaned in sweet agony as she began to work. The human grabbed her wrist. "You're killing him."

His grip slackened as Nasto's blade slid lightly against his throat, the deadly vibration stilled but only a flick of a switch away.

"Let her work, boyo."

She looked up at him blankly, "Without a full kit there's very little i can do without hurting him," she said, hoping they hadn't seen the stirring of bliss on her face, "I either hurt him while I fix him, or only half fix him to keep him from being in too much pain. Which is it?"

"Fix 'em, girlie. If he didn't want a stump he coulda stayed still. Kriff his kriffing suffering."

The man's face twisted in anger. "Just do it."

She worked in tense silence, cursing silently as everyone paid far too much attention as she did so. She'd not have gotten away with doing anything overt but now she was under too much scrutiny to get by with anything at all.

When she was finished she wiped her hands on a clean looking part of the trash's shirt and rocked back on her heels.

"He'll live if he doesn't go rolling in something gross."

"Best be can ask for," Nasto said. He kicked the human in the leg. "Best get your friend inside, we got trouble coming."

"Hey hey, what's going on here? "

The swaggering pirate band from earlier sauntered down the street. "New friends, Rev?"

"Uh," said Rev.

"We're tight," Nasto affirmed. "Sir."

"Oh, " said the leader. "'Sir'. I like that."

Iocina turned her face away and tried to look unobtrusive. The likelyhood that any one of these pirates had been part of the flagship's crew, or of the group she'd taken control of when gathering up these slaves was only a little better than nil but the moment she got careless she'd be recognized. If they'd only seen her as a Sith apprentice she might have more of a chance, but they'd seen her first as a slave and more likely to have remembered her face and not just black robes and a lightsaber.

The leader walked up and jostled the Ithorian. "He gonna live?"

"Yeah," Nasto said.

"How'd he get cut up like that? And who killed the dug? All of you are Lord Ullan's property, he doesn't want you just killing each other like animals. Wasteful, tch. "

"They did each other. Some alien thing," Rev said.

"Tch," said the man again. "Sith for the right idea, kill the aliens or put 'em down in holes and make 'em work."

He prodded Iocina's shoulder with his shock stick. "Think I'll take this'un, Rev."

"She's not one of mine. "

"Don't care. She's in my zone, makes her one of mine."

Iocine deftly entered the leader's mind as well as the other two nearest pirates. She superimposed a slightly less pleasant visage over her own features as she looked up at them. There's nothing here you want after all, I'm used goods. I might even have a disease and there's no medics here to fix you up.

Vranow Sydd was an underappreciated genius, at least in his own mind. Unlike a significant portion of the rest of the crew, he was entirely happy to be on the ground and in charge. He knew that Rost was not the brightest, and that sooner or later Lord Ullan would be looking for a new man to put in charge. That new man could easily be Vranow Sydd, if he put together an efficient-enough operation and made a few others look bad.

He looked down at the woman and curled his lip in disdain. "Never mind, she's a grelx-face. Let me see one of your girls."

Rev nodded quickly. "You like Denarus, she's right inside."

"So bring her right outside," Sydd said.

"Right away!"

Moments later, a small, timid-looking blond woman was ushered out the door. She looked up at Sydd, and it didn't take the Force to smell the fear radiating off of her.

The slave was attractive, her mask of terror making her more so to Iocina's way of thinking anyway. She wondered if he was going to bring her with him to wherever he slept or take her here.

The woman turned her face to Iocina, eyes pleading as though asking her to do something. Iocina rolled her eyes at her and she looked hurt. The hell does she think I could do? She likely thinks I'm Rev's new whore, she sneered slightly before smoothing her face into an impassive demeanor.

"Honey honey honey," Vranow said. "What's the matter? Don't you want another go?"

He extended his shock stick toward her face and she flinched back.

"No no," he said "you don't back away from me, little thing."

"Please sir," she whimpered.

"There it is again!" he said with a laugh. "Oh, I like that!"

"Denarus," Rev said warningly. "Make our overseer happy."

She sniffled and leaned toward the shock stick. "Yes sir."

Iocina looked at Vranow's hand. His thumb was over the trigger, but not pressing down on it yet. She slipped into the woman's mind and felt her fear spike as sensed an intrusion, then took control of a few things.

Denarus' mouth opened slightly and she began to suck on the end of the stick, squirming as though it was the best thing she'd ever tasted. She knew everything her body was doing, but couldn't stop herself. She slipped her hands between her legs and began to pleasure herself as tears began to trickle down her face.

Iocina put a shocked look on her own face as the slave began to moan.

Nasto slowly, quiet slid to the side. He wasn't out of sight, as such, but the way the shadows fell on him made him far less noticeable. He flicked a hand at Iocina gesturing for him to join her.

The pirates began to close around Vranow, laughing and pointing at the spectacle. Rev visibly relaxed. "See, she's a good girl."

"Yeah, yeah, she is. Suck on that, pretty. Take it deeper."

Iocina slowly stood and began to back toward him, keeping one eye on the slave. She pushed the thing into her throat as she began to groan her pleasure around it.

She turned away and nodded at Nasto as Vranow unfastenes his trousers. "Hell of a distraction" she muttered, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

He shrugged. "Way of things in a place like that," he whispered in her ear. "Listen girlie, it's you and the folks who cover your back. She weren't gonna do that, so she don't count for nothin'. There ain't nobody but you and yours, and right now, that's you'n me. Get me?"

She nodded emphatically, "Yeah, definitely."

So far I've got almost nothing, save pirates stupidly allowing their favorites to do whatever the hell they want when they owe their service and labor to Darth Ullan.

Somehow, Denarus had managed to convince herself that she was operating under her own volition. So when the party moved on to something more suited to an adult holoproduction, she moved from man to man, servicing them, hands and mouth occupied. Nasto slipped past and into the house.

"That's gonna be a while. Not much to those goons, which is good for us. 'Specially if we can stay off the work details. Got a feelin' those are gonna be pretty high-casualty things."

He began searching through the house. The two other whores that Rev had located steered well clear of the pair. "Place is defensible, at least for a small fight," he commented. "Good hiding places. This'll work."

She surveyed the room herself, but couldn't find much fault save that Rev and his friends probably knew all the ways in and out of it too and said so.

"I don't trust anyone as far as she could throw him," she muttered, indicating a pretty girl barely a meter and a half tall.

He nodded. "Good policy. This is like a war zone, it's going to settle down into routines soon enough. The work parties will be organized, the markets will be set up, and the scum'll be running the show. We can do fine as long as nobody gets any stupid ideas."

He sat down on the couch and pulled out a ration pack. "We got five, we can eat and think."

"What's your names?" the girl Iocina had pointed at said.

"Nasto," he said, munching down on the ration bar that she was eyeing hungrily.

"Cinna," she said flatly, not pulling out the ration bar she'd stowed away. She could go several more hours and at the rate things were going she'd be stuck here for days. She'd need water sooner than she needed food.

"Is water bein' locked up same as food?"

She nodded. "There's a trickle pond down at the center, but it's..." she frowned. "If you got nothin' else, it'll do. They distribute more when it suits. Don't seem much put together right now. Weren't ready for it."

"Got a feelin' our esteemed Sith Lord sprung this on his pirate buddies in a hurry," Nasto said. "Kinda how they work, what I seen. Throw it out, see what happens."

"Are you protecting us now?" the woman asked. "I'm Ralim."

"I don't care who you are," Nasto said coldly. "Just luck it ain't you out there right now."

Her face crumpled in despair. After a moment she turned and fled back deeper into the house.

Iocina screwed up her face as though she were thinking, but she'd been contemplating this since she'd discovered the pirates were going to be in charge of the operation.

She rubbed the back of her head and said, "This is... really stupid. If things keep going the way they are, without anyone cracking down on the pirates anyway, nothing is ever going to get done."

She waved a hand vaguely in the direction where everything was being set up, "Its good for us of course, in the short term anyway. In the long term though if there is no progress and the attrition rate stays high they'll probably wipe us out and start over."

And I'm probably going to be the one to have to crack down on this idiocy. At least semi-regular distribution of food and water on an equal basis, since starving people tend to work slowly and they die off. In the end these are my Masters slaves, not the pirates, and their lives and deaths should benefit him first and anyone else second.

He nodded. "Not much to do for that, 'cept hang on long as we can. They ain't go the system, and they're busy face-popping whores in the street 'steada fixin' things in an organized fashion."

He spat on the floor and shrugged. "Ain't always the right side of things that end up on top, just the side's got more blasters, hey?"

He put the rest of the ration pack away. "But long-term ain't our concern for now. We got a place to doss for the night, worry about tomorrow when tomorrow comes."

"I said earlier it ain't gonna take long for some idiots to talk about rebellin' but now I wonder how long it'll take for t'other pirates to start mutiny against the top and everyone split up into a gang war."

She stretched and folded her hands across her stomach, "You tired? Don't even know what time it's s'posed to be."

He got up and walked back into another room. "Got something like a bunk here. You can sleep first, I'll take watch make sure nobody cuts your throat while you're sleepin'."

She followed him back to take a look at the situation and found it wanting. The 'bunk' was essentially a mattress covered in layers of blankets and it had obviously be used recently. She nodded, feigning gratitude, "Thanks."

She dropped down into the corner and set her back to the wall. She'd meditate, and try to decide what exactly she was going to do. There was really nothing to report that hadn't already been predicted. What she wanted to do was fix this, and wondered if she should do so in this identity or her real one. She wanted to keep Nasto, he was intelligent and a natural leader. All she could do for now is get a better view of what was going on, and see just how badly Rost could drive this into the ground before she could move in and take the reins.

As she dropped into meditation, she could sense a dark presence moving through the colony.

Urla was on the prowl. As usual, her thoughts were a red haze that made them murky and nigh-impenetrable.

But it was obvious she was angry, and she was plotting... something.

She breathed out slowly and latched onto the female's position, trying to get at least a warning for what she was up to. It had been weeks since she'd tried to look to the Force for guidance. Once she would have coaxed it, asking it to allow her to see something, now she gripped it and ordered it to do so.

 

What do you want, slut?

She sent a chuckle, I thought you were supposed to be down in your little hole in the ground.

 

This is pathetic, she raged. These fools have no sense about how to organize anything, let alone our master's colony.

And how exactly would you run things? Perhaps I should tell my Lord you think you can do better, and that you've left your duties because you think they're boring and beneath you? I think I'll do that now actually.

In case you were too busy wiping the seed from your whore face, he directly stated that I will be responsible for this place when he departs. I am simply assuming that responsibility now. Or would you rather settle things between us now?

I'd be intimidated if you were, well, intimidating. I will admit, I did forget he planned to abandon you here. He only has room for one apprentice on his ship doesn't he?

Iocina smiled slightly, and thought to herself Oh she's going to balls it up even more and I can fix that too. Goody.

Regard it how you wish, she snapped. I see you found the house of your fellow whores. Have you taken to fornicating with the scum yet? Tasted the seed of slaves? Perhaps you should bear their children.

There was a sudden scream outside, then shouting. A single blaster shot was fired, then it became very quiet.

Nasto stood by the door, vibroblade at ready. He held up a cautioning hand to Iocina.

She stood anyway and tossed out a wave of power to get a picture of everything around the building.

Blood. Urla was standing amidst a mass of wounded pirates, wallowing in an ocean of fear. Denarus was dead, and some of the pirates were likely not to make it long without help.

"Kriffin' really?" she said exasperatedly. Iocina quickly snatched up one of the piles of ash lying about, and any bits of trash and metal as well and sending it in corkscrewing wave at the Trandoshan from three different points. She focused on her eyes and the membranes covering her ear slits and nostrils. Like the droids she did what she could to clog the exposed metal and servos of the prosthesis.

Urla waved a hand to wash away the piles of debris, then slashed through the flimsy wall of the house.

"So you do want to settle this, then?" she called out. One of the other whores screamed before being smashed into a wall. "Let's see who lives and dies, little whore."

Nasto edged away from the door. "Think you know each other?" he asked.

She laughed and leapt to her feet. "Better get out of the way friend, we'll finish our business later," just to madden Urla she blew Nasto a kiss and darted for the bolthole she'd made note of behind the bed.

Out in the open she glanced around for weapons, finding only more ash and garbage. Sighing she slid a hand over the long pocket along her thigh. She hadn't wanted to pull her 'saber out unless things went entirely south, or she needed to gain complete authority.

Urla sprang through the window, claw extended. Were it not for Iocina's last-second dodge, it would've taken her head cleanly off at the shoulders.

I was asserting discipline on our slaves and you interfere?

You say asserting discipline I say wasting flesh that could be put to real use. Master said you could have three a day to play with, you're disgustingly wasteful.

She dodged another swipe, dancing just out of the way of every strike. Only two small slits had opened across her chest, hardly scratching the skin. You can wield base fear but you'll never have the respect you need to rule.

Fear is respect. I only killed one, and she was small, useless, and not a worker. The others will carry marks that will remind the others of their place and their duties.

"I may be a monster," she said aloud "but I am not an animal. Now fight back, yield, or let me open your throat."

"I suppose I yield for now, since I have more important things to do than play with you," she sighed, sounding bored, and examined her nails.

Urla swooped forward, grabbing Iocina by the throat and slamming her against the wall. Her fangs hovered inches from Iocina's face, her fetid breath blasting Iocina with every exhalation.

"And why should I not kill you now?"

Iocina used the Force to slide her 'saber into her hand and pressed it to Urla's belly, "Why shouldn't I?" she asked.

"Stalemate," she spat, the word fueling dark rage within her. "When the time is right, I will eat your flesh," she growled. "Now, I am going to put this place to order. Stay out of my way or the next time, I will kill you."

She waited until Urla was nearly out of conversational distance, "Didn't Master Leliarath teach you how to clean your teeth? You reek of rot."

Spout your petty insults. I will deliver results.

Vranow, clutching his mangled groin, screamed as she gathered him by the collar and towed him along the ground, heading back up to the pirate camp.

Iocina smiled grimly at her back, Later, when this places is going to pieces because you've terrified everyone into utter desperation we'll see who gets things done, she thought to herself, You don't understand that the prey needs a sliver of freedom, imagined or not, because cornered animals do stupid destructive things.

Rev had already disappeared. The other pirates were gathering themselves, limping back, leaving the dead woman behind.

Nasto, she could sense barely, already moving away as well.

She turned and caught his eye, tilting her head to the side. She wondered if he would run. All her plans had been ruined and she needed to find new ones, make new connections. She doubted she'd get another chance to blend in unless she spent a great deal of energy both masking her presence from the stupid beast as well as spending time on a disguise.

He gritted his teeth, then made his way back up. "So. Not Cinna," he grunted. "Gonna chop my head off now?"

"'Cina is my nickname, or it used to be anyway." she smiled wryly, "I don't have any titles or anything. Why would I cut your head off when there's more brains in your nose than she has in total?" she jerked her thumb in the direction Urla had stalked off.

"Yeah, I know better'n to talk bad about Sith. Any Sith. Includin' your boss. Our boss. Y'notice that?"

"Yeah, she's new," she scowled, "she thinks a couple of weeks of rough lightsaber practice and groveling makes her a Sith Lord. I'm not going to tattle on her for insolence, my Lord already knows I'm sure."

He snorted. "You're not what I was expectin' from a Sith. I figured there'd be more drama. And a cape. Seems like Sith love capes."

"I'm working up to a cape, I just earned clothes. The only reason I'm still talking to you is because as I said you're intelligent. How would you like to help me get this place into actual shape after she ruins everything? Its going to be twice the work since we have to start working behind her back."

He studied her closely. She could feel him reaching out, unknowingly and instinctively, with what little Force talent he possessed, testing her motives and the truth of her words.

"Well," he said finally, shrugging "it beats starving or being shot up by the likes of shockstick rape boy back there. Gotta admit, I ain't sad that she did him up, though."

"Me neither, its men like him that'll make our jobs harder and deprive my Lord," she smirked, "our Lord of his dues."

She nodded, "Right, well, where's the nearest food storage? I need to have a talk with whoever's in charge of it."

He chuckled and her assumption he'd know where all the important facilities were in under a day of arrival.

"Six blocks north, green storefront. They've got a processor going again, at least for now. Are we low profile, or loud and proud?"

"A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B," she said, beginning to unsnap the top of her coveralls to reveal a black undertunic. She slid the gray material down and used the arms to tie it around her waist, cinching the belt to hold her 'saber.

"I don't want to go in cutting shebs to pieces, even though apparently I'm the animal and she isn't. We'll go in reasonable and get less reasonable if we need to. Lead the way oh captain of my guard."

"I ain't an officer," he grunted as he shifted his vibroblade around to the front. "Got enough brains to pour piss outta a boot, thanks."

His demeanor shifted visibly, going from skulker in the shadows to bold bodyguard in the blink of an eye. His face took on a practiced disinterested arrogance as he marched back down the street. Between the two of them, slaves scattered to the sides, hiding in the corners and alleyways.

At the storefront, a pair of pirate guards lounged about smoking deathsticks, while another trio knelt on the ground playing dice.

He glanced over at her, his unspoken question seeping to her. Did she want him to roust the lot?

She nodded slightly, whispering "Announce me, 'Apprentice Iocina Denara' for an inspection."

"ATTENTION!" He bellowed. "Apprentice Iocina Denara for inspection! Look alive, you worthless scum!"

The pirates scrambled, some reaching for their weapons before realizing what was up.

"Ah, ah," the nearest man to them said.

"Ah ah what?" he snapped. "Address Mistress Denara properly, you mewling turd!"

"Of course, Mistress!" the man said. He was standing at something that vaguely resembled a military posture.

"Should I remove his insolent tongue, mistress?" Nasto asked. She could almost feel him repressing laughter.

"That depends on if I like what he says of course," Iocina gave the man a polite smile, "Other than mewling turd what are you called, and who is in charge of this supply? If that's not you and the scum that is supposed to be in charge is not here, do not bother claiming that you are."

"Gunnery Tech 2nd Class Markov, Mistress!" he said, fidgeting nervously. "Lieutenant Alun is in command of this facility."

"And is Lieutenant Alun present?" Nasto asked.

"Yes sir!"

"Then I think you should take us to Lieutenant Alun."

"At once!"

Nasto rolled his eyes at the man's back.

Inside, Two men wrestled with machinery, sliding control bank across the floor. Another, still dressed in a natty uniform that he'd obviously worn down from the ship, pretended to be rewiring a console that he'd just taken apart. He jumped to his feet.

"Ah, mistress! Lieutenant Alun reporting. We're getting it squared away in here."

"Yeah," Nasto said, gesturing at his clean uniform. "Looks like."

Alun scowled at him.

"Why don't you explain to me why this machinery is in pieces?" she asked, "If I remember correctly these units are shipped in only two parts that slot together without any unnecessary fiddling with wires and such. Its meant to be simple enough for an absolute moron to put together, are you less than an absolute moron?"

She slowly walked around him, still smiling, "And if its so very difficult for you why are your men sitting at their leisure instead of assisting you?"

Nasto spoke up softly. "Before you try some line like you'd play on a superior officer that don't know nothin' about nothin', remember you're talkin' to a Sith here. She can kill you with her kriffin' mind, and she won't be fooled by nonsense. 'Course, she usually doesn't bother, she just tells me to take whoever and whoever out back and make it last a while."

He leaned close to Alun and grinned at him. "She likes the screaming."

Alun gulped. "We... they were broken when we got here. We have one half-functional, and we don't know how to make the other one work."

Iocina stepped close and Alun flinched back, her smile turned icy, "Is this true?" she asked one of the other men, stepping passed the officer and stroking a hand through the trembling underlings hair. She slipped into Alun's mind and waited for the answer.

It was, in Alun's mind, largely true. There had been one tech who'd claimed he could fix things, but he was not well-regarded for his capacities and had been ignored. The machinery had been damaged, and what they had was inadequate to the task. He'd been told other synthesizers were coming online, and in the finest traditions of the service had set about neglecting his duties.

"Yes mistress," the underling said, shivering at her touch.

"That's a good lad," she said, "So instead of going to find someone to rectify this situation you decided to relax. Yes?"

She yanked the man's hair. "You," she said, "Will go hunt down someone with actual experience and get these working. If they can't be repaired, you," she pointed to the other grunt, "will go and request assistance from those who's job it is to distribute these things."

"And finally you," she turned back to Alun, "Are you right handed, or left?"

Terror blanched in his face. "...right, mistress."

The others virtually fled at a run.

"Stop," she said flatly, and the others practically fell on one another to obey. Slowly they turned back to the room, "Very good," she purred, "It isn't a lesson if there are no pupils."

"Does Nasto here have to hold you down or will you submit? It will hurt worse if you don't."

He whimpered loudly. "Please, mistress. I'll get this fixed. Pleas-"

Nasto grabbed his arm and held it up. "Wasn't the question the mistress asked, you little shit."

He locked the joint out expertly, presenting the wrist to her. "But it was an answer of a sort, I s'pose."

"Thank you. You see my friend Nasto you worthless shebs? This is a man worth emulating. Prompt, obedient, clever. Strive to follow his lead and you'll do much better than your Lieutenant here," she flipped her saber into her hand and deftly removed, not his whole hand, but his thumb and forefinger.

"There we are," she said, "since you're so inept at the fine details you won't need those. I expect you'll learn to shoot and eat and hold your genitals with the other one eventually. Now get hold of yourself because we still need to have a talk about what you fellows are going to do with this equipment once its running. Once you've stopped snivelling of course, which I recommend you do quickly."

Nasto encouraged Alun to get over his discomfort by rapping his forehead against a nearby counter.

"Mistress wants some quiet," he said. "Best be giving her some."

He didn't stop snivelling entirely, but it died down to a quiet whimper. He kept trying to look at his maimed hand, but Nasto kept it twisted away. He glanced over at one of the junior pirates. "Gimme your deathsticks. The pack, in your pocket. Yeah, those. Gimme."

He shifted so his shirt pocket was accessible when the man offered the pack. "Just drop 'em in there."

"Now I've been hearing nasty rumors that some of your illustrious number have decided that since you're in charge of distribution of food and water you get to choose who is worthy of it and who is not. This is not true. All of these slaves belong to Darth Ullan, they are his property as are the food supplies meant to go to them. You have your own supply, and you must hand out the proper amount to keep the slaves alive. I don't care if they're comfortable, but they need the nourishment to serve our Lord. If you want to continue serving our Lord as overseers instead of blinded slaves I think you should do everything in your power to do your duty to the utmost. Do we understand one another?"

She waited for men to nod and murmur 'yes mistress' several times before continuing. "There will also be no, ah, outsourcing of your duties to slaves who should be working, they will be put on a duty roster by the end of tomorrow. You will not decide which slaves will work and which will provide you with entertainment, unless they have first done their assigned duties themselves."

She smiled up at Nasto, "Do you have anything to add? You know I've always valued your opinion."

He raised an eyebrow. "Regular duty rotations, you morons. Two on watch at all hours, and I mean on watch. If I come up on this post and there's a throat to be cut because somebody's taking a nap, I'm gonna cut it, you hear? Regular duty rotations, and I want full accountin' of all numbers- production, slaves fed, material in, material out, I want to know who's going to be on duty any given day, and if some kriffin' kriffer gets the sniffles and misses, I want that accounted for. You ain't shifted lazy duty in space, you're on the ground now, and that's my turf."

He had taken to emphasizing his words by rapping Alun's forehead against the counter every so often. He finally released the man, who slumped semi-conscious to the floor. "Be sure your lieutenant undersands the requirements when he comes to, because if I cut a throat on the way in here, his throat's gonna be next."

He pulled a deathstick from the pack he'd just acquired and ignited it. "Any questions?"

"No sir!" "No sir!"

"Think we're about done here, mistress," he said casually.

She patted him on the arm, "See boys, details."

She strolled out, moving back towards the erstwhile whore house. "Thanks for the last bit, I was never in the military."

"Used to be Jedi, right? Like mosta the Sith? Lemme know if I'm askin' too much, ain't gotta throw me through a wall or nothin' to give me a hint."

"Nah, lets go commandeer a headquarters. We'll have to do this at all of them, or at least as many as it takes for word to get around. Pick a place you want and we'll take over."

"Coruscant?" he said hopefully. "That's where this is all headin', right? Or is that some super secret plan I'm not supposed to know about?"

He pointed up the hill. "Depends on what you're lookin' for here. I mean, for a slave boss HQ, that water station there and the attached control center is a pretty good point. Good three direction sweep, clear lines a'fire, could block off the first floor access pretty easy and then wipe out as many boggers as you got here and a couple thousand more, 'ssumin' they don't have weaponry of their own to poke holes in it. But your boy Rost, he set up in that..." he pointed at a fine house up the cavern. "Which shows he don't know his ground work worth a damn, because that's got a blind angle and two easy covered approaches. Got a feelin' your boss was goin' for survival of the fittest with this setup. Seems like his kinda thing."

Screams cut the air from that exact direction. "And it seems like your pal already done got up there and started a conversation. So..."

He started down the street toward the water station.

"I figured I'd have to kill the bastard anyway," she said. "As long as I get the real work done she can take all the so called glory of conquering for herself."

A group pirates came around a corner and began moving in on them, seeing only what they expected - two slaves walking openly.

"Looks we got two slackers," snickered the Weequay leader.

"I can think of how we can put the girl to work," Iocina smiled as the human leered at her.

"Speaking of slacking," she murmured.

He exploded into action, kicking the leader in the knee and snatching the pistol from his holster. He held the Weequay down in a crouch and fanned the pistol across at the others in the group. "That little strap dingus is called a retainin' strap, by the way. Designed so as to be easily released by the person wearin', but prevents the weapon from fallin' right out, or bein' easily snatched by somebody who wants to take it away. Now some folk who figure they're fast on the draw, they leave it unhooked. Just about everybody who thought they were quick on the draw that I ever met, they ended up shot sooner or later."

He glared icily at the group. "Any of y'all think you're quicker'n the shot I have on you right now?"

Iocina looked the group over, "I do believe these fools take me for a slave. Am I a slave Nasto?"

She raised one hand and made a fist. The human who'd suggested a new occupation for her suddenly crumpled screaming, clutching between his legs as she crushed his sack.

"This is a Sith, you worms! On your knees and give the proper reverence!" he barked.

The others fell quickly to their knees, shouting panicked apologies and making sure to put their weapons aside.

"Now, what possible excuse could you have for prowling around instead of organizing this colony?" she asked, "Not patrolling, surely, since you're first thought was taking your pleasure instead of looking for troublemakers."

Nasto shifted around so his foot rested against the Weequay's ear, the alien's arm locked up behind his back, the wrist bent to just short of snapping. "My thought, mistress, don't matter what they were doin', but what they will be doin' from now on. Which is the job you're gonna give 'em."

"You're going to do two things. First of all, you'll round up an actual work party and supervise as they work on the sanitation project. Secondly you'll tell every one of your fellows that you meet to also form parties to begin laying out the slave quarters, and any other of the do doubt numerous things you were told to do and are ignoring."

She closed her eyes and sighed as the man began screaming again, "That reminds me. You can also release all the slaves you've stolen from Lord Ullan in order to have them service you personally and add them to the work rosters. I don't give a damn if you borrow them at the end of the day after their duties are complete so long as they aren't rendered incapable of working the next day."

She twiddled her fingers at them, "Nasto go ahead and break this wretch's arm and then they may go about their business, namely obeying me without question."

He pivoted slowly, gradually increasing the pressure on the Weequay's arm until it suddenly snapped. The alien wailed until Nasto stomped his head against the ground.

"You heard the mistress."

"You there!"

Another party trotted up, this one stained with blood. "Release him!"

"Take a close look at who you're ordering!" Nasto snapped. "This is the Sith here."

"Uh, we are under orders from mistress Urla to secure the water station... "

"Good, that is precisely where I was headed. Come along then," she ordered lazily. She drank in the pain and fear of the two beings writhing on the ground, wanting to wriggle herself for a very different reason.

"Well," she said, poking the Weequay's broken arm with the toe of her boot. He screamed again and she chuckled, "Oh don't be such a child, you're a hardened criminal so act like it."

She flicked her hand towards the water station and started walking.

The two pirate bands fell in with her.

"Orderly ranks, you scum," Nasto barked, circling around them. "You're in enemy territory! Eyes up! Watch for trouble! You will rule by order and discipline here! Your ranks will not break!"

Slowly but surely as they marched the pirate bands began to form into order.

As they walked Iocina mentally worked out how to set up the slave quarters with the most efficiency, including tearing down the half ruined buildings put up by Czerka. They'd brought more prefabricated housing, much more cheaply manufactured stuff. Not that the make of it mattered much, since there was no weather to worry about and temperature difference between day and night was negligible. They could use the reclaimed material to create whatever might have been neglected.

She had been learning how to organize a refugee camp. Even if Vrook hadn't intended her to reach Knighthood she supposed he imagined she'd still serve the Jedi in whatever way the council commanded. Being put under a real Jedi to assist in that sort of thing would be just the sort of thing he'd plan for her.

When they reached the building there were four female Twi'lek slaves and one male human kneeling in the dirt outside the door, all nude. From the sounds inside she assumed another group of pirates was responsible, but when she reached into the minds of those inside she found that other slaves had taken control of it. In fact, the two pirates who'd been sent to guard the place were barely half alive inside and were the ones being used.

"Well that's unexpected."

She began pointing at the men in her party and instructing them to cover the exit points, then unhooked her lightsaber. "Let's make an entrance, shall we?"

She strode forward igniting her blade and sliced through the flimsy door with two cuts, then flung the pieces into the room with the Force.

Nasto had secured a blaster carbine. When the door went, he sprang inside, the attached light on and flashing about as he covered the entry.

"DOWN ON THE FLOOR!" he barked. "MANIPULATING APPENDAGES ON YOUR KRIFFIN' HEAD OR OTHER DOMINANT SENSORY ORGAN CLUSTER!"

Iocina glared as the pirate guards, a female Cathar and a thin male Zabrak fell to the floor at her feet. Both were bleeding from several places and the Zabrak obviously had a head wound. Both had bound hands and were gagged.

She looked down at the four human slaves cowering on the ground. They all bore wounds from the fight to take over the station. "I am very disappointed in you," she said to the semi-conscious guards.

"I could give you slaves a lecture as to your position and proper behavior but it would be a waste of my time," she motioned to the men around her, all with weapons pointed at the offenders. "Take them out and shoot them, cut their throats, whatever you feel like doing. Then get back here and help me secure the building."

She looked down at the captive guards, "If you care to take them and have them treated for their wounds do so, but be quick and come back. If you don't feel like it take them out and shoot them."

She looked around the room. There was another food synth unit here, already set up. The offending slaves, or perhaps the guards as well, had taken the liberty of helping themselves to it and dirty dishes and bits of food were lying about. The cots and crates of supplies to set up the station were littered everywhere and in the process of being looted.

Walking outside she looked at the kneeling slaves, even with the commotion they hadn't moved and she smiled approvingly. "You, up. Come inside and start cleaning and setting this up."

Iocina surveyed the nearly complete slave quarters with her hands on her hips.

"Not a bad start I'd say," she said, "Now I get to go report to my Lord and see if the other project I'm working on is anywhere near complete."

She grinned slyly at Nasto, "Want to come or are you going to stay here?

"Depends. Does he have a sense of humor, or is he the type to chop my head off soon as look at me?"

"He has a sense of humor, but it usually does involve torturing people. He would likely not cut you up immediately, though I suppose its best if you stay here, I might be awhile depending on if my personal project is ready for my part."

She stretched, "Go get some rest, you earned it."

Turning in the direction of Ullan's personal headquarters she took off at a trot. She realized abruptly, and a bit disturbingly, that she'd missed Ullan. She'd even missed being tortured, just a little. "I'm not a mentally healthy person," she muttered, but was cheerful as she stepped inside.


End file.
